


Easily Broken

by daisybelle



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Nephilim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybelle/pseuds/daisybelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bond is seen flirting with the new quartermaster, his superiors are quick to end their contact. Because Q is a nephilim that can only die of a broken heart and Bond had been already the cause of death for another nephilim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Containerpark](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Containerpark).



> Written for and inspired by containerpark's gorgeous art and her prompt.

 

* * *

 

 

_The semidarkness of medical branch at night time welcomes him, giving his own skin a greenish colour, an interesting contrast to the blood stains and the black and white of his remaining suit. He goes to one of the medical cabinets, taking out everything he needs to patch himself up. Just slowly he realises that there is another sound besides the constant hum of the electric light and medical machines._

_A woman is sobbing, almost drowning out the beeping of a heart monitor._

_He turns around, looking for its source and finds himself at the door of one of the patient’s rooms. He doesn’t need medical expertise or his own kind of experience to realize that the woman in the hospital bed is dying. Her dark hair frames her waxen face and is the only sign of colour next to the white sheets and linens. Another woman sits next to her, her shoulders shaking from her sobs. He knows her, knows her elder version. He also thinks that he knows the other woman, but he can’t really remember more than shy smiles and blushes._

_He blinks and suddenly the other crying woman is right in front of him, an attack. Her fists drumming against his chest. Her name is Eve, he remembers now, but it seems unimportant for the moment. He tries to catch her fists and she struggles against him, before she pushes him away._

_“You killed her,” she sobs, “she loved you and you broke her heart.”_

_Helplessly his gaze wanders to the woman on the bed and suddenly he understands. A nephilim …_

 

With a gasp Bond woke up. It took him a moment to remember where he was.

Amsterdam.

Hotel room.

Human trafficking, maybe terrorism.

Bullet points – one of the very few advices he took from all the shrinks MI6 forced him to see through the years. It helped with the aftermath of the nightmares. It didn’t help with the feeling of forlornness that came with the dreams.

He clinched his eyes shut and then shook his head. There was no use trying to get back to sleep, he knew this too well. Instead he got up, took the few steps to the minibar and poured himself a drink, his usual coping method. He wandered to the windows, staring at the dark street in front of his hotel. Two bikes, a couple walking along the water. Had he ever been this carefree? He didn’t remember; he just remembered the dead.

The first burn of alcohol is almost welcome. He hadn’t thought about this night for a long time. The night when he had met Eve for the first time and killed unknowingly an innocent girl that had fallen for him.


	2. Chapter 1

“So, what is your problem?”

Q looked up from his tablet to see Eve standing next to the large conference table, collecting files and her notes. He realised they were the only people still in the room, all the other department heads had already left.

“What do you mean?” He asked, regretting his question almost immediately when he saw her smile. It was only his second month as quartermaster of the London office after being in charge of MI6’ Paris office for the last five years, but somehow he had already made a friend in Eve. A nosy friend, apparently, but still.

“You are the newest member in the ranks, second in command, and you were terribly distracted during this meeting,” she counted on her fingers.

Damn, he had hoped he hadn’t been this obvious, but it seemed he should count himself lucky that it hadn’t been M calling him out. That certainly wouldn’t do wonders for his career in espionage if people noticed his lack of attention.

“What gave me away?” It couldn’t hurt to get some pointers.

Eve just shrugged.

“I’ve worked with Double-0-Agents, I know stealth, you don’t possess it. So what is it?”

Q thought about feeling hurt, but then decided against it. She was right. He could hack easily any database, but hiding in plain sight wasn’t his strength. Luckily for him, it wasn’t in his job description either. So he gave in. Besides, he could use Eve’s help. Born and bred in London she certainly knew her way around town, while he had spent most of his time in London setting up his workshop.

“Mondragon somehow escaped yesterday and ate one of Mrs Paul’s flower pots and I want to buy her a new one. I thought I could look it up on the internet, but that was not the best idea if you don’t know anything about plants. So now I need an expert.”

“Is Mondragon the black or the grey one?” For a second Q was startled that Eve knew so much about his cats, but then he remembered that he had already shown her the photos on his mobile.

“Black.”

Eve just nodded with a knowing smile than she scribbled something down on her notepad and gave him the paper.

“Here go to this address, tell them Eve sent you.”

Q looked at it, seeing the address of a flower shop. A pretty fancy one if he remembered the neighbourhood right.

“Thank you.”

Eve simply smiled at him before she shooed him off to q branch.

 

* * *

 

The flower shop was as impressive as the address had promised. Not that Q had much experience with flower shops, but to him it seemed impressive. Expensive looking vases holding beautiful flower arrangements, the scent of a summer meadow in the air. He wondered how Eve knew about it – if it was a place she favoured or if she had been on the receiving end of its flowers. Both seemed likely. Or maybe it was just one of the things she knew.

His first steps into the shop had shown him already how out of his depth he was. Next to the bouquets were also rows of pot plants who looked all more or less the same to him. There was no way that he would find the right plant on his own.

Unfortunately the only shop assistant was busy flirting with a customer. On the first glance he couldn’t fault her for that – simply gorgeous, muscular, blond, just the right height. But the other part of his brain that wasn’t distracted by him, wondered idly why she even bothered. The flowers the man was buying were obviously for a significant other, most likely a woman. He tried to suppress the irrational jealousy for someone he didn’t even know, mentally berating himself for being so shallow, but he didn’t really succeed. His last relationship had been ages ago and his working hours, not to mention the whole espionage thing weren’t ideal for meeting someone.

Slowly he approached the counter, hoping to get a better look on the man, to find some kind of flaw that could only be seen from a few steps away. As if aware of the scrutiny the man looked in Q’s direction, his ice blue eyes almost seemed to penetrate him, before the hint of a smirk appeared around his eyes. Q hated himself for finding this attractive as well.

At least the shop assistant also became aware of him. “Do you need help, honey?”

It took some effort for Q to tear his gaze away from the blue eyes, but he finally managed.

Slightly embarrassed, he explained: “Eve sent me. Apparently you are the right people for buying a plant that says ‘sorry for the mess, this one shouldn’t be eaten by your neighbour's cat’.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the blond man's amused smile, but Q tried to keep his gaze at the shop assistant. She laughed at him. “Oh, I might have the right one for you. Just wait for a minute.”

She disappeared behind a door and Q was alone with the blond man, too aware of his closeness, but unsure how to proceed. He stared at the man’s flowers, losing himself a little in possibilities, when the man interrupted his thoughts.

“Any particular reason why you want to stay in your neighbour’s good graces?”

Of course, the other man wouldn’t follow the unwritten English law of ignoring each other. Q sighed inwardly. He still didn’t know what to do. Reluctantly he turned to him.

“I keep irregular hours, she is helping me feeding my cats,” he offered as explanation.

“Cats?” An elegant eyebrow rose.

“Yes, cats,” Q defended himself.

He felt a slight blush rising and instinctively looked down to hide the burning of his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the already familiar smirk appear on the other man’s face.

“So, is it just your job keeping you away from your cats?”

Q looked back up that, mostly because of the tone. Yes, there was a hint of amusement, but also sincerity. Q was startled to see that apparently the other man had come closer to him. Q took a deep breath to steady himself, but instead he inhaled his scent. An earthy cologne and something more that just smelt right. He felt the flutter of his heard and met the ice blue eyes again to see whether the other man was similarly affected. They had become darker, ice blue turning into the shade of the stormy see. All signs of amusement were gone and for a moment they were both lost, bound by something that Q only knew from the tales of his mother.

“There you are, that should be the perfect apology,” the shop assistant interrupted the moment. Confused Q turned his head to look at her, not really comprehending what she did with the plant in her hand. It was very green, very opulent and with lots of red flowers. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and then he remembered. The plant massacre. Mrs Paul. Mondragon.

“Okay, I take it,” he managed.

“Brilliant. Do you want me to wrap it for you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Tasha, I need to get going,” the other man announced. The shop assistant bent over the counter to offer her cheek for a kiss.

“Don’t be a stranger, James.”

‘James’, Q repeated in his head. The gorgeous stranger had a name. At least a first name, quite common, but better than nothing.

Q watched as James obligingly kissed her before he straightened himself, brushing one hand over Q’s back and left the shop. Q was pretty sure that James had felt the slight shiver at his touch.  

“He is gorgeous,” the shop assistant sighed. “But apparently taken. He buys the same kind of expensive bouquet for five years now,” she grimaced while wrapping his plant. Q smiled politely. Five years of purchases. It shouldn’t be too hard to find this gorgeous man with the means he had at his disposal.


	3. Chapter 2

Bond was glad that Eve wasn’t at her desk when he made his way to M’s office. It gave him the perfect opportunity to leave the flowers without either of them acknowledging the reason for them. He was aware that the shop assistant, Tasha, thought they were for a significant other, but he never felt the need to correct her assumption. Although he had been tempted to do so today, just to avoid giving the wrong impression to the man int flower shop. But habit and no idea how to work this topic in their short conversation stopped him. He definitely planned to bring it up upon their next meeting, as soon as he had his briefing, he would try to find the man again. What use was being a spy otherwise?

Without further flourish he announced himself to M and was just a few minutes later back in Eve’s office in the company of Tanner. Eve had returned to her desk, and a slight twitch around her mouth was the only sign that she understood were the flowers came from. He had only left a note the first time he delivered them, a simple white card with a date and his initials. One reason was not to raise any alarms, but he was pretty sure she understood the underlying message – ‘I’m sorry for your loss’.

With one last look to the flowers he followed Tanner to q branch and apparently to his new quartermaster. Bond had been abroad the last weeks on a joined mission for the CIA, so he hadn’t been in contact with q branch, but he had heard enough to be wary. Computer and engineering genius, fluent in several languages, protégé of the old M. It was the last point and some encouraging comments from two other Double-0-agents that had prevented Bond from investigating earlier. Bond had trusted her and trusted them, so he had decided to give this new Q a chance.

Q branch was as busy as ever. Bond didn’t recognize many of the faces, after all there was a reason why Double-O-agents were usually handled by the quartermaster; their requests almost always left the new faces speechless (for various reasons). But today he recognized one of them. His gaze was drawn to a group of several techs, discussing something and right in the middle he saw him. The other man from the flower shop.

Sometimes he really liked his luck. He liked it even more when he followed Tanner to an office and instantly recognised the plant from the flower shop on the desk. While he and Tanner waited for the quartermaster to arrive, he let one of the leafs glide through his fingers, enjoying the velvet structure and the slight coolness on his skin.

A sharp exhale announced the return of the officer’s owner.

“You?”

Smiling Bond turned around and took in the man in front of him. The dark curls framing his face, the glasses, the cardigan the seemed to old for him. He held out his hand and reflexively Q closed his around it.

“James Bond. Hello again.”

Carefully he caressed Q’s hand with his thumb, almost expecting Q to withdraw it, but apart from a faint blush he didn’t show any reaction.

“James Bond, yes. 007. It’s nice to meet you.”

For a moment Bond let the handshake linger, before he reluctantly released Q’s hand, instantly missing the warmth.

“Any updates on the cat front,” he asked.

“No, nothing, as far as I’ve heard,” was Q’s distracted answer.

Before Bond could continue, Tanner interrupted them.

“Maybe we could then return our attention to the problem at hand. You know, just some terrorists.”

It seemed to Bond that he hadn’t been the only one who hadn’t remembered Tanner in the office. Unfortunately Tanner made it impossible to forget him again. He took control of the meeting and interrupted any of Bond’s attempts at conversation. From the bewildered stare he saw on Q’s face, this was a new development. But it led to Bond being out of Q’s office in record time. He made a mental note to question Tanner later, before he collected the rest of his equipment for his latest mission. After all, one of the most important questions was already answered. The identity of the man from the flower shop.

 

* * *

 

“Any particular reason why you are driving me to the airport?“

When Bond had entered the garage, a car had already waited for him as expected. Unexpected was the sight of the driver.

Eve.

This was as odd as Tanner’s behaviour in q branch.

She threw him a long glance before she answered.

“Your visit to q branch.”

Bond just raised his eyebrow. He had been barely there, just a few minutes. What harm could he have done? Especially with Tanner accompanying him. 

“You were flirting with the new quartermaster. Apparently you two were very familiar around each other. M was worried.”

Bond stared at her for a long moment, there was something in her voice. Anger, but tinted with sadness. He was mentally running through all the reasons why his flirting with Q was a reason for panic.

Until he knew.

There was only one plausible option.

“I take it, I get a different handler,” Bond tried for light-hearted, but was sure he didn’t succeed.

Eve’s gaze was surprisingly full of sympathy as Bond resisted rubbing over the strange ache in his chest.

“He is my friend,” she simply said.

Suddenly he saw her again, her younger self from years ago, the one from the nightmares. The sobs and the angry fists. The desperation was now exchanged by a fierce protectiveness.

Not again.

Not by him.

He pretended the stab he felt in his chest was just disappointment, but he didn’t quite believe it.


	4. Chapter 3

Q waited patiently for the audio signal. He had already everything in place – the map of the building, the frequencies of the security feed. All he needed right now was the agent. He had been warned that Bond was much worse than the other Double-0-agents regarding orders and authority, but after their brief interlude, he hadn’t gotten the impression that Bond was reluctant to listen to him. Only that he might prefer a different topic.

With a small smile he remembered their first official meeting as quartermaster and agent. It had taken him by surprise to see the gorgeous man form the flower shop again so soon and even without abusing his employer’s technical possibilities. He just wished, he could have explored whether or not his skin tingled everywhere when Bond touched him. Bond brushing his thumb over his skin had given him goose bumps.

The part of him that wanted to prove himself, wanted to establish himself as the new quartermaster, had been thankful for Tanner’s interruption. But a much larger part of him had been disappointed. Instead of getting to know Bond better, Tanner had rushed them through the technical briefing. Q had assumed an air of confidence as he had explained the equipment to the agent. He hadn’t understood Tanner’s urgency, but the man had stopped any kind of real conversation between Bond and him.

It was also Tanner who stepped right now to his desk and interrupted Q’s trip down memory lane.

“Q, I will monitor Bond for this mission.”

Although Tanner had lowered his voice, the whole atmosphere in the room changed. Q branch was so designed that commands from the main table could easily be heard across the room. It was pretty useful during missions to request additional information, but it also meant that any other conversation held at this table could be easily followed from anywhere in the room.

“Why would you monitor one agent? I’m the quartermaster.”

His protest might not sound as professional as he would have liked, but he had been looking forward to this, providing support to one of his agents. To Bond.

Tanner didn’t look him in the eye.

“It was requested.”

Q sensed the sharp intake of breath in the rest of room.

“Requested,” Q repeated and Tanner nodded.

The explanation was like a punch in the gut. There weren’t many people that could overrule the quartermaster’s care for the agents, especially the Double-0s. In fact, there were only two. Mallory of course. But M had no reason to doubt his abilities. He had been very positive about Q’s handling of 005’s situation in Novosibirsk and 003’s extortion in Accra.

That only left the other possibility

The agent himself.

Any agent could decide who they wanted in their ear. Their life could depend on it, that was why they usually were granted their wishes.

Which meant only one thing.

Bond didn’t want him to monitor his mission.

Q wanted to protest, but the hurt closed off his throat. Wordlessly he handed Tanner the headphones and returned to his office.

Bond didn’t want him.

He probably thought Q was just a stupid boy who obviously had a crush on him and couldn’t handle the job.

He wanted to scream at the injustice. Bond didn’t know him, Bond didn’t even give him a chance. Bond thought him inept and this realisation was just painful.

Because … because … Bond might have been the one, but how could he be, if he didn’t take Q seriously.


	5. Chapter 4

Bond hated missions that involved any version of cybercrime. When he had started his career in the Royal Navy and later changed to MI6, any intelligence activity evolved around paper. Now, all they had were secret flash drives and encrypted data. And it made him feel old – on the one hand because, yes he knew about ‘old man yelling at cloud’, on the other hand it almost always meant that he needed help. He had a decent understanding how the digital world worked – you couldn’t be one of the longest serving Double-0-agents without learning and evolving with the world's technology, but he was honest enough to admit that the finer work, the data extraction, anything that involved more than basic hacking was beyond his capabilities.

And now he was in a large server room with an impatient Tanner in the ear who demanded results and non-functioning tech.

“I need an expert, Tanner,” he explained. Again. “The reception is too weak; I can’t upload your data. So give me someone who knows about the transmitter.”

Bond hated this discussion, hated feeling so inadequate. He had already tried the amateur version of getting a better signal and had dragged the data rack as far as possible to the nearest door, but without success. Unsurprisingly several floors under the earth. The only positive thing about this mission right now was the fact that the security for this data center had been laughably. They should have enough time to find a solution.

He sighed. Perhaps all those bureaucrats were right, maybe the time of the Double-O-agents was really over. He looked once again around in the small room which was practically a mess of server trays and data ports. They all looked the same to him.

“007?” A new voice interrupted his thoughts. It sounded slightly familiar, but it took him a moment to place it.

“Yes, Q?”

“I have an idea – do you still have your radio? In one piece and working.”

Bond smiled. Apparently the quartermaster didn’t trust him with his tech. It wasn’t unfounded. Until today he had only managed to bring back one piece. One radio. It hadn’t been working anymore, but it was the thought that counted. But this time he could calm the quartermaster.

“Yes.”

“Good,” and Bond almost heard the relieved sigh, “then please follow my instructions and maybe we can get you a better signal.”

What followed, reminded Bond very much of MacGyver. Somehow Q made him connecting the radio with his flash drive, enhancing the reception. In a way Bond felt very much like a puppet on a string, but on the other hand he enjoyed the other man’s voice in his ear. He could picture him easily, the messy hair, another old-fashioned cardigan, the large glasses that mostly hid his beautiful eyes. He was almost thankful when Q reminded him of the security camera outside and their need to keep Bond’s visit secret.

Later, on his way back to England, he used his laptop to secure the recording of their interchange. It should tide him over his sleepless nights.

 

* * *

 

The debrief was the first time that Bond was alone with Q since the day they had met. All his missions had been handled by Tanner and Q had only given him his weapons and other gadgets that might be useful, always under the watchful eyes of Tanner or even M. There had been no chance to exchange more than pleasantries, even Bond’s questions about Q's cats or the plant had been interrupted by Tanner.

Now they were both alone in the conference room, the large oak table between them. They had both been early and Bond found himself staring at Q. He looked thinner than he remembered; more fragile, dark circles under his eyes. Of course, he was clad in one of his cardigans, but it was obviously too large and didn’t seem to do enough to keep Q warm. He saw the quartermaster shiver several times, although Bond thought the temperature in the room almost too warm.

“Thank you for your help,” he offered after none of them had spoken since Q’s entry in the room. His words were met by a snort and undecipherable expression. Bond thought he saw a strange mixture of anger, longing and defiance; Q’s eyes extremely vibrant in contrast to his pale, almost greyish skin.

“You’re welcome,” Q responded. “You were surprisingly useful.”

Ouch, that stung. It was not often that people reduced him to a tool, at least in his company.

But Q?

For some reason that penetrated Bond’s usually thick skin.

He couldn’t think of an answer. And then M and Tanner arrived, and anything Bond might have said, remained unspoken. Nevertheless, his attention remained on Q.

He didn’t like what he saw in front of him. Oh yes, Q was still a pleasure for the eyes, there was no denying, but something felt off, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He looked at M and Tanner to see if they noticed it too, but apparently not. M stayed as professional as ever, only Tanner threw suspicious glances in his direction.

Bond rolled his eyes. It had been one mission with Q. And it hadn’t even been his idea. He had only requested someone who could help him via earpiece. Q had been an unexpected bonus.

“Will Bond be now my responsibility?” Q suddenly asked. And Bond’s attention was back at their meeting.

He wanted to say yes, wanted exactly Q’s voice in his ear. At least that.

But then he met M’s look.

And Bond understood.

“I’d like things to stay as they are,” he heard himself saying and he didn’t even dare to look to the quartermaster.

He wondered if he was the only one feeling something break.


	6. Chapter 5

One thing that Eve found always fascinating was how people kept sticking to their chosen routines and places. It meant that there were certain tables in the cafeteria that belonged to q branch, others to accounting and that the medical staff never bought their food here. It also meant that she would find Q outside on the small terrace, because that was where they usually spent their coffee breaks.

She was a few minutes late, M had asked her to talk with Q. Apparently the debriefing with Bond hadn’t gone as planned. That in itself was not surprising, meetings with Bond seldom followed the assigned agenda, but this time Q had apparently been the one to complicate matters.

He had asked to be Bond’s handler and judging from the urgency with which M had insisted on her talk with the quartermaster she wasn’t the only one filled with panic at that thought. She had seen that Bond was interested in the quartermaster, but she also believed that he wouldn’t seduce him.

The quartermaster on the other hand was a blank page. Could he stay professional? He wouldn’t be the first one to fall for Bond. And he wouldn’t be the first one to die because of that.

There was only a small crowd in the cafeteria and Eve had to wait just a few moments before she could collect her coffee. As expected, Q waited outside, she even had suspected his dark mood; he barely acknowledged her arrival.

Calmly she sat down. They hadn’t been friends for very long, but she already knew that shecouldn’t rush the quartermaster, not if he didn’t want to be rushed. So she waited and slowly sipped from her coffee.

The silence between them grew longer and Eve slowly begun to rethink her strategy, when Q suddenly spoke.

“Bond doesn’t trust me.”

It was a seemingly simple statement, but Eve hadn’t expected that the conversation would run this way. For a moment, she was torn between her loyalty to M and MI6 and Q. The latter was her friend and if he really believed that one of the highest-ranking agents didn’t trust him, it could affect his work. M was more interested in the asset, not necessarily in the quartermaster’s happiness. That made her choice easy. In the end she could always argue that it had been in MI6 best interests. 

“He does,” she replied, vaguely aware that too much time had passed.

“He doesn’t want me to monitor his mission,” was Q’s almost violent answer. “He doesn’t trust me. How should he? He doesn’t know me, he can’t say anything about my capabilities.”

This was more serious than she thought.

“He does trust you, believe me,” she tried again. “His life depends on your capabilities.” For a moment she hesitated, but then she added, “besides it is not his fault, Mallory gave the order.”

Q jumped out of his chair. “I was there. He said he didn’t want me.”

“Q, no,” Eve reached for him but he took a step back, his chair screeching over the floor. “It was M, it was M’s order. Definitely.”

He stared at her, his eyes blazing. Two angry red blotches appeared in his pale cheeks and for the first time she realised how sick he looked. Before she could continue this thought, he already derailed it.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t know why you are protecting him. Or better, I know. I’ve seen the flowers on your desk. They were from him.”

With that he stormed away, shaking off her hand as she tried to stop him, out of her chair herself.

“Let me explain,” she started, but the terrace door was already violently pushed and he didn’t listen to her.

She wanted to follow him, to explain, but she feared that he wouldn’t believe her. With a sigh she dropped back into her chair.

“What have we done?”

 

* * *

 

“Bond,” M greeted him. “I received your report.”

Bond just looked at him.

“It seems that you choose a more unconventional route to get the necessary information.”

Bond allowed his eyebrow to rise.

“Surely, there would have been faster methods to gain the target’s trust than building a shed with him.”

His eyebrow rose again.

“Do you need me to spell it out?”

Bond felt his mouth twitch at M’s annoyance. Why should he be the only one to suffer?

“The target wasn’t comfortable with his attraction to men; a seduction wouldn’t have been of use. I chose a method that seemed suitable for our goal,” he explained.

“I see.” M didn’t believe him.

Bond answered M’s inquiring gaze calmly, not betraying anything. He could understand M’s confusion; it mirrored some of his own. It was true, the target – Sami – hadn’t been comfortable with his flirting, but Bond was experienced enough to know whether or not he could seduce someone. He would have succeeded. The only problem was, he didn’t want to.

Every time he had tried to start flirting with Sami, had seen the other man’s uneasiness, it had reminded him of Q’s blushes. Sami had been holding a hammer in his hand, and all Bond could think of were Q’s fingers dancing over the keyboard. Sami’s hair had been brushed by the wind, and Bond wanted to sink his fingers in Q’s unruly mop. It was pathetic, but in the end Bond could only admit defeat. Apparently he had fallen in love. With the quartermaster. Who was a nephilim. He wondered if he was the only one seeing the irony in that.

“Is that all,” he asked calmly.

M looked at him searchingly for a long moment, before he nodded.

As Bond left the room, he felt M’s curious glances drilling in his back.


	7. Chapter 6

Q ignored Eve. Or to be more precise, he avoided her. He knew that she had tried to contact him via one his technicians. But he wasn’t interested in her explanations anymore. The rumour mill had provided him with enough material, so that he was pretty sure, he knew most of it.

The other nephilim and Bond.

If it didn’t hurt too much in his chest, he would laugh. As if they could protect him from Bond. Love didn’t work that way. Sometimes someone would fall for the wrong person and get their heart broken. The only problem was that normal people didn’t die. He wondered how they even wanted to survive the pain of heartbreak.

Disinterested he looked at the thermometer; his fever had risen by another .5 degree. He hadn’t much time left. Bond should be back tonight.

He hoped he would see him one last time.

 

* * *

 

There are things Bond’s training hadn’t covered, but which he had learnt from experience. The way a heart monitor sounds for someone surviving their injuries. The way people sit around someone dying or with someone where it’s still touch and go. Or the best part, the relieved looks of those simply waiting for the patient waking up. Admittedly the last category was the rarest he has ever witnessed.

And tonight doesn’t add another example to the pile.

Against all odds, it hurt like hell, like nothing has hurt in a long time and the wanted to scream, to stop this pain. He clutched the handheld of the door until his hand hurt, a welcome distraction from the stones in his chest, anything that is not the realisation of Q taking his last breaths.

“Hey,” Bond greeted the very small and very pale version of the quartermaster in front of him.

“007,” came the weak reply, but Bond thought he could see a sad smile. He stepped to the bed and folded himself on the chair next to the bed.

“I brought you something.”

He lifted the plant in his hand. “Guaranteed cat-proof, says Tasha.”

Q’s whispered ‘thanks’ was nearly inaudible against the noises of the machines. His next words were even barely more than breaths and Bond had to lean forward to catch them.

“Will you give them to Mrs Paul? You know my neighbour.”

“You give them to her,” Bond insisted.

A small smile appeared and Bond tried to memorize it, too aware that it might be the last smile he would see from the man in front of him.

“I’m dying, James,” he explained softly and Bond was now out of the uncomfortable chair, hovering over the failing body of the quartermaster.

“No, you can’t,” was Bond’s denial. It was ignored. Instead Q continued as if Bond had said nothing.

“Will you do me one favour?”

“Anything,” promised Bond against tears burning in his eyes. “Anything.”

“Will you kiss me?”

And Bond closed what little space was left between them, placed his lips carefully on those beneath him. It was chaste, just a nip, a little taste and when Bond lifted his head, he couldn’t stop the words tumbling from his mouth.

“I love you, Q. I love you.”

He was too much caught up in his own misery to notice the change, instead he kissed Q again. Harder this time, filled with desperation.

“Don’t die,” he begged before he closed the distance again and again. And it took him a while to notice that something had changed, that Q kissed back. More than just a slight pressure on his lips, but teeth and tongue and Bond tried to get up to look at him. Q’s hand had somehow found its way in his hair and he allowed one more kiss before he pushed himself up.

When he could see Q completely, the change was obvious. The quartermaster was still frighteningly pale, but his eyes that had seemed so lifeless and empty before, were now full of fire.

“Q?”

And Q smiled at him, alive and beautiful, and Bond felt almost dizzy as he stared at him. When Q pulled him down once more, he went down willingly, kissing him again and started peppering kisses over his face.

“I love you, too.”

The murmured words brought a stop to Bond’s caresses and he lifted his head to look at Q.

“You love me?”

“Yes,” confirmed Q and laid his hand on Bond’s cheek.

“Does that mean …,” Bond didn’t finish his question, but Q answered nevertheless.

“I’m not going to die.”

Suddenly all the tension left Bond and he just collapsed on Q. He was vaguely aware of Q holding him and rubbing circles on his back, despite being the one on his former death-bed. But he simply couldn’t lift his head, even if he would have wanted to. Instead he just breathed in Q’s scent, a little tarnished by the hospital smell that lingered over his skin, but still the best he had ever smelled. He didn’t know how long he had lain here until the doctors and Eve and M returned, but he knew he had found something to hold on.


	8. Epilogue

“You know,“ Q started murmuring sleepily as Bond slipped in their bed, “you know that something strange happened today at MI6.“

“Is that so?” Bond asked, not sounding particularly interested.

“A bouquet of tiny screwdrivers appeared on my desk.”

Bond just hummed, he was apparently far more interested in getting Q out of his clothes. Q turned around willingly, granting the agent better access.

“It was beautiful,” he explained; his eyes following Bond’s fingers over his own chest, “but not quite as beautiful as Eve’s flowers.”

“But it will last a lot longer,” Bond breathed into Q’s mouth before he sealed Q’s mouth with a kiss and they both lost any interest in bouquets whatsoever.


End file.
